


Always You

by Papillon87



Series: Dorm Diaries [7]
Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Lee Dongmin, Canon Compliant, Dongmin is jealous of Binsan, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut, Top Moon Bin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:47:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27069613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papillon87/pseuds/Papillon87
Summary: “You are so beautiful,” Bin’s lips slide down his throat, “and you always were. From that very first day when you walked through that stupid door of our practice room. I thought I would die when I saw you.”
Relationships: Lee Dongmin | Cha Eunwoo/Moon Bin
Series: Dorm Diaries [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1197385
Comments: 17
Kudos: 103





	Always You

**Author's Note:**

> I finally got my Binsan albums - and while looking at the photos, the idea for this fic was born.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ............................

Dongmin knows he shouldn’t be doing this but he can't help it.

The photos are taunting him but he looks through them anyway, first the photo books, then images on fancafe, then photo cards, dozens and dozens of them, Bin, Sanha, Bin with Sanha together on the bed, slivers of exposed skin, Bin’s gaze on Sanha, heavy.

He slams the laptop shut.

It’s all fan service, he knows that, just another photo shoot – and this one had to be bold. The concept for Bin and Sanha’s subunit is darker, heavier, sexy in the way Astro has never been; of course the photos need to reflect that.

Dongmin as a model knows that a photo is just that – a snapshot of a moment, a blink in the suspended universe of fabricated reality. He has been there many times, done the same. It has nothing to do with the real world.

And yet, it hurts. Seeing Sanha and Bin so close, looking so good, so synchronised, in tune with each other – so intimate somehow. 

It’s just a concept, he tells himself furiously, again and again. It’s just a concept.

And yet, he is jealous. Envious of Sanha’s opportunity to have a whole photo shoot with Bin – whole comeback really – and jealous at the sight of them together.

He bites his lip, determined not to cry; it’s stupid to cry over something like this, this is their job. They even talked about it with Bin, because he was worried and Dongmin reassured him that he was fine, that he was happy for them – and he is, he truly is – but what irony; it turns our that Bin was right to be uneasy.

In this moment, Dongmin hates the fact that his boyfriend knows him better than he himself does.

He pushes the laptop and photo books away as if they were poisoned and curls up in a ball on the bed. The sheets smell faintly like Bin - he slept with him last night – the scent making everything a little bit better and thousand times worse at the same time.

At least he has a room to himself; nobody will see him cry.

“Min, are you ok?”

Marvellous. Just what he needs right now, to have Bin see him like this, his whole pathetic display of jealousy, instead of Dongmin being the supportive boyfriend he should be.

“Min, what’s wrong?” Bin’s voice is cracking with worry but he refuses to look up.

“Min,” there is a touch on his shoulder.

“Nothing,” he mumbles into the pillow.

“Well, it looks like something to me.”

Bin sits down on the edge of the bed but Dongmin remains curled up in the foetal position, head turned away.

“Is it because of me and Sanha?”

Dongmin stiffens; he hates that Bin knows him so well. “Why you and Sanha, why would you and Sanha have-‘

Bin chuckles but it’s a sad sound. “Because there are our photos all over your bed maybe?”

Dongmin has no answer to that.

“Min.” Bin’s hand cradles his shoulder gently. “I know we don’t have enough time for each other now. I know you miss me; I miss you too-“

“It’s not that-“

Despite the harshness of his tone, he desperately reaches for Bin’s hand; he needs it.

“Can't you see, Binnie? I’m useless!”

He crushes Bin’s fingers so hard he can feel him wince but doesn’t let go.

“We did consider you for the subunit but came to the conclusion that Sanha would be a better fit,” he imitates the voice of one of the executives during their latest meeting with the management.

The memory washes over him, an uncomfortable, shameful wave.

“See? I’m not good enough, Binnie! I’m useless! But they didn’t need to say it out loud, I've known for a long time! I dance like a robot and can't hold a fucking harmony when I'm singing live and – and I'm fat! I’m holding you all back!”

‘Min,” Bin’s voice is quiet. Dongmin can see he is weighing his words very carefully. “Min, that’s not true. You have worked hard and you have improved so much. It’s not your fault that you didn’t start training when you were younger. These things take years.”

“Oh, come on,” snorts Dongmin derisively. ‘You know it’s not just about that. MJ is better than me and he didn’t have much training either.”

“Min, don’t do this to yourself,” Bin shuffles closer, running his free hand down Dongmin’s back. “You wouldn’t be here if the agency didn’t have faith in you, if the management didn’t believe you could keep up.”

“The management kept me on because of my pretty face and you know that,” huffs Dongmin. “They don’t care, as long as they can take their cut from every modelling contract I get and as long as they know I'm the face of Astro. No one cares how I'm dragging you all down with my awful dancing and my fat ass that can't fit into any trousers.”

“Your dancing is not awful at all,” Bin snuggles against his back, “and I don’t care what others think about your ass. I love it; it’s a piece of art and it’s mine.”

Dongmin makes a choking sound, half outraged cry, half sob. “Don’t make fun of me, not now.”

“I’m not, ”Bin breathes into his ear. “You know I'm not joking.”

Bin sits up and suddenly Dongmin feels two strong hands rolling him over, onto his back. He blinks a little disorientated, the soft pool of light from the night lamp blinding him even through the film of tears clinging to his eyelashes.

Bin’s thumbs swipe the tears away from his cheeks. “I don’t care if you are the best dancer in Astro or the worst or in the middle – we all are good enough to be here. Also,” his voice grows a little lighter, “anyone feels awful compared to Rocky – so I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Dongmin stills a little. Maybe Bin is right. It’s hard to measure up with other members but they all have their insecurities, their fears of not being good enough – even Bin, with his charisma and skills, is not immune to that.

“But I'm so fat,” he whispers miserably, squeezing his eyes shut in shame. “Now that I'm filming, I don’t have enough time to exercise and I'm putting on weight again. Just look at me. No wonder I would never be allowed to form a subunit with you. I would look like a lump next to you.”

There is silence after that and Dongmin keeps his eyes shut. No matter what Bin is about to say, there is a grain of truth in his words and he knows Bin is not as patronising as to deny that. His boyfriend knows a thing or two about the feeling of inadequacy that eats up your soul; corrodes it from the inside. He would never dismiss Dongmin’s worries.

“Look at me.”

There is firmness in Bin’s voice, the slightest hint of command. He doesn’t use this tone with Dongmin very often – but it makes him open his eyes in an instant, training his gaze on Bin’s face.

“You are not fat. But we are all different,” Bin’s voice reverts to his usual softness. “You can never look like me, even if you starved yourself. Watch.”

His hand takes Dongmin’s wrist, not quite managing to encircle it with his fingers. “Now do the same to me.”

Dongmin takes Bin’s hand, fingers closing effortlessly around the slender wrist.

“See?” You are built differently, have bigger bones – and starving wouldn’t change that. It would only make you more miserable.”

Bin leans closer, brushing his lips against the wetness on Dongmin’s cheek. “Stop beating yourself up, Min. You are perfect. You are so beautiful my heart hurts every time I look at you.”

They both smile a little at that - a reminder of Dongmin’s birthday hashtag from Bin – a memory that Dongmin keeps stashed away, to be retrieved and basked in when he feels low.

“You are so beautiful,” Bin’s lips slide down his throat, “and you always were. From that very first day when you walked through that stupid door of our practice room. I thought I would die when I saw you.”

Dongmin’s heart hammers in his chest as Bin’s hands slide down his sides. 

“I love you, all of you,” Bin’s fingers are digging into his hips. “You are perfect as you are.”

When they kiss, he can taste the saltiness of his own tears on Bin’s lips. Bin is soft at first, gentle, but it’s not what Dongmin needs right now; he wants Bin to kiss him so hard his mind would blank out; he wants him to erase the dark thoughts in his head, to wipe his brain empty of anything but Bin.

Suddenly, Bin breaks their kiss, even if Dongmin sees he is struggling to do so. 

“I’m sorry, Min. I know you’re probably not in the mood-“

Dongmin pulls him down and kisses him again.

His fingers claw at the nape of Bin’s neck, dragging him that fraction closer, sending a wordless message that tonight, despite everything – or maybe because of it - he is in the mood and will need everything Bin can give.

Bin understands.

His palms slide under the thin cotton of Dongmin’s t-shirt, mapping their way up his ribcage, dragging – slowly, purposefully – over his nipples.

Dongmin gasps into Bin’s kiss, one desperate gulp of air, before Bin pulls back.

“I want you, Min,” he pants, pupils dilated, the blackness swallowing Dongmin whole. “You’re so sexy it hurts. I need you, right now.”

Wordlessly, Dongmin tugs at Bin’s hoodie and Bin laughs a little, sweetly embarrassed at his outburst, and starts taking off his clothes.

Dongmin follows his lead – the urgency in Bin’s movements fuelling his own desire - and his stomach swoops at the sight of Bin sweeping all the photo cards and both photo books unceremoniously off the bed. There is something satisfying in seeing them scattered on the floor, a living testament to the fact that to Bin, he still – hopefully – means something. Something _more_. 

They fall into the sheets, Bin’s hands roaming all over his body, his lips on Dongmin’s skin, urgent, ravenous.

His brain empties blissfully but after a short moment, he freezes.

“Wait, Binnie,” he pulls away a little from Bin’s kiss. “We… We ran out of lube last time,” he pants. “Do you remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” Bin frowns for a second, then presses his palm flat against Dongmin’s chest, pushing him back into the sheets. “It’s fine; I'll get some from Jinjin.”

Left alone, Dongmin shivers a little and wraps his arms around himself. Behind the closed door, he can hear Jinjin and Bin, the murmur of their conversation, something about food being ready soon and Bin’s light giggle when he tells Jinjin they can go ahead without them.

Then the door creaks open and Bin slides inside, wiggling his eyebrows in a way that makes Dongmin smile instantly.

“We are good to go, baby,” Bin saunters across the room and leans down. He presses a giggly kiss onto Dongmin’s sternum, tossing the lube on the bed.

Dongmin squirms a little, embarrassment heating up his cheeks. “They all know now we’re going to fuck.”

“Uhm,” Bin grins against his chest, kissing his way up to his collarbone. “And I will make sure they can hear us too.”

Dongmin’s dick gives an interested twitch at that and Bin laughs again, a breathy, pleased sound, and lowers himself down, his whole body pressing into Dongmin’s.

“I want to make you feel good tonight,” he whispers between kisses. “And I want to hear how much you like it.”

Dongmin is glad he is lying down; his head is starting to spin. Bin’s weight on top of his, the hardness of his cock pressing against his stomach – it’s almost too much, yet not enough, and he pats around himself with his free hand, trying to find the bottle Bin so carelessly tossed aside.

Bin’s hand covers his. “Whoa, baby. So impatient. Let me; I’ve got it.”

There is smile in Bin’s voice, softness in his teasing, and Dongmin grows pliant, letting Bin take the lube out of his hand.

He squeezes his eyes shut as Bin lifts himself up. This part is always a little mortifying, the bluntness with which Bin’s gaze rakes over his body, the deliberate way he pushes his knees apart – slowly, so slowly – as if he was prolonging the wait, delaying the pleasure as much as he can.

“Min. Look at me.”

He lifts his eyes, even if it costs him almost all the willpower he can muster.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?”

Bin’s is kneeling between his spread legs and his hand is sliding down Dongmin’s chest, coming to rest at the curve of his hip.

“You know what I would love to do on our next day off?”

Bin’s thumb gently strokes the junction between Dongmin’s thigh and his groin.

“I would love to stay in bed the whole day. With you.”

Fingers digging into the flesh of Dongmin’s hip, Bin leans forward and kisses his navel.

“I would fuck you until you couldn’t move. Then we would sleep and afterwards, you would fuck me.”

Dongmin moans. The mental image is too much and he buckles his hips forward, hands darting up, into Bin’s hair.

Bin laughs softly against his skin, letting himself be pushed lower. He gently kisses the tip of Dongmin’s cock, licks at the slit; then takes him in his mouth, all in one go.

Dongmin grabs a fistful of bed sheets, desperately trying to be quiet; it’s embarrassing to think of other members behind the thin door being able to hear his needy sounds – but it’s difficult. The years of being together have made Bin an expert on how to get Dongmin off – or how to  _ almost  _ do it and leave him hanging, dangling off the edge. 

Today, it seems the latter is the case.

Bin pulls off with a soft  _ plop  _ and straightens up. He is smiling, an innocent smile, at odds with his messed-up hair and swollen lips, and a tiny streak of dribble down his chin that he wipes off with a satisfied smirk.

Dongmin lets out a frustrated whine, which is met with another chuckle and a gentle kiss on the inside of his thigh.

“I want you to come while I'm in you, Min.”

Now that is something Dongmin can wholeheartedly agree with, even if he reaches up with a frown, running his hand over Bin’s torso, palm pushing against the hardness of his abs. “Hurry.”

Bin smirks, grabbing the lube. “At your service, beautiful.”

Dongmin’s stomach tightens with pleasure, less so because of Bin’s finger pushing inside him and more because of the nickname.

He closes his eyes as Bin stretches him, his whole focus on not fucking himself on Bin’s fingers; he is way too close and he doesn’t want to come like this; he longs for Bin to be inside him first. He wants them to be as close as possible when he comes.

“Can’t wait,” Bin presses his forehead against Dongmin’s knee as he pushes the third finger inside. “God, I want you so much.”

“Come on then,” Dongmin arches as Bin’s fingers brush him inside just the right way. “Come on, Binnie, I can take it!”

Bin shakes his head. “Just a bit more, Min. Don’t wanna hurt you.”

Even Bin’s patience is being stretched thin though; he doesn’t protest when, after a minute or so, Dongmin reaches down and pushes his hand away. 

He grabs a cushion and gives Dongmin’s leg a gentle tap; Dongmin obediently lifts up his hips and waits for Bin to adjust it, then watches him slick himself with more lube.

After that, it’s impossible to wait anymore.

“Come here,” Dongmin grabs Bin by his hand, pulling him close. “Come here.”

Bin goes without resistance; they kiss, long and hard, Dongmin’s mind going hazy with impatience. He feels Bin fumbling and - finally – the familiar pressure against his rim.

The stretch is there, enough for him to suck in a strained lungful of breath, but Bin knows him and waits patiently, slowing down until Dongmin relaxes, and only then pushes in.

They still. Bin hovers above him, propping himself on one hand, panting a little. The damps strands of hair are falling into his eyes and Dongmin reaches up and pushes them out of the way, thinking with an aching heart about how much he loves him.

Bin begins to move, slow and languid strokes at just the right angle, watching him intently. “Are you ok, Min?”

“Yeah, I'm fine,” he breathes out a fluttery sigh, closing his eyes. 

He needs to feel Bin, to  _ feel _ him with every single nerve ending; it’s almost like his eyes get in the way of  _ seeing _ so he shuts them, drowning in the sensation.

Above him, Bin is gaining momentum; Dongmin can tell he is losing control now, snapping his hips with more force, more urgency.

He wraps his legs around Bin’s waist, drawing him in; he needs him closer, deeper.

Bin groans at the feel of Dongmin’s thighs gripping him like vice. He grabs Dongmin’s wrists and pins them with one hand above Dongmin’s head.

“Love your thick thighs,” he pants into the crook of his neck, hoisting one of Dongmin’s legs a little bit higher. “God, I want to be crushed to death by them.”

Dongmin hooks his ankles behind Bin’s back and squeezes harder. He doesn’t give it all he has though; he knows his thighs might not have the ideal proportions for an idol but they are strong – and the last thing he wants is to hurt cause hurt.

He is rewarded by Bin’s moan, so loud that if, by some miracle, the others haven’t yet noticed what’s going on behind the closed door of Dongmin’s bedroom, now they know for sure.

Dongmin couldn’t care less. He tilts his hips just the right way, keeps rolling them to meet Bin halfway; it’s the tightness in his belly that tells him he is close, he is so close; there is something incredibly frustrating in the way Bin is not letting go of his hands – he would love to rake his nails down Bin’s back – but it’s also hot, the hunger in Bin’s eyes, the desperation with which he devours Dongmin, all of him, every inch of his skin, every shuddery breath.

He comes, untouched, into the tightness of their bodies pressed together. 

Bin groans at the feel of Dongmin clenching around him. His thrusts turn harder, faster; he is still pinning Dongmin’s wrists down but his pants into the crook of Dongmin’s neck are high-pitched now, the sound almost pained, his body curling into himself, spasming in the build-up of what is coming.

“Min, Min - oh god – Min-“

Bin grips his wrists so hard Dongmin can see stars - and then there is warmth flooding his insides and Bin is crying out loud, teeth scraping Dongmin’s collarbone in a way that will probably leave bruises but Dongmin doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind one bit.

Bin collapses on top of him, breathless, shaking.

Dongmin lets his legs fall open; he feels boneless, his head empty in the best way possible.

Silent minutes tick by but neither of them moves.

Dongmin strokes Bin’s back, glad for the closeness. Bin sighs quietly and his eyelashes quiver a little as his breathing evens out after a while.

Dongmin pulls the cover over them; he doesn’t care about the stickiness between their bodies – they can shower in the morning - the only thing he wants now is to hold Bin close.

Bin stirs a little at the touch of the blanket and slides off him. Dongmin lifts up his left arm and let Bin snuggle against his side, the way they always fall asleep.

“I love you,” Bin mumbles quietly into Dongmin’s shoulder. “I love you, Min.”

Dongmin presses a kiss into Bin’s hair. “More than Sanha?” he chuckles quietly.

Bin slings one leg over Dongmin’s thighs and buries his face into his chest. “More than Sanha, more than anyone else. It was always you, Min. Always you.”

Dongmin squeezes Bin’s shoulders under the blanket; he kisses the top of his head one more time.

“Love you too, Binnie. Love you so much.”

The sound of laughter, clinking of bowls coming from the living room and Bin’s quiet breathing are the last things he remembers before he falls asleep. 

  
  



End file.
